Now Who's The Stroppy Child?
by frozen-delight
Summary: 'Oh my God, not again,' Sherlock groaned, twisting his head slightly to look at Dean. 'It really does something for you, doesn't it.' A somewhat "stroppy" little adventure. Sherlock/Dean with Sherlock being Sherlock and much humour and silliness.


A/N: This nonsensical little ficlet spontaneously came into life tonight because my good friend and beta **canonisrelative** was having a tough day and I was also having a tough time because she made me replace the word "stroppy" in the SPN story I'm currently working on, on account of it being too British, and "stroppy" and I were experiencing some form of separation anxiety in the process. Add Sherlock/Dean and much silliness into the mix and this is what you get.

Enjoy! :)

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'Dude, is this your idea of a fun time together? Maggots?' Dean asked in outrage, turning his face away in disgust.

Sherlock looked up innocently from his alphabetically organised photo collection of vermin-induced deaths. 'But this is fascinating,' he protested with shining eyes.

'No. That's just gross.'

'Not nearly as gross as half the monster-defeating strategies you and Sam employ on a regular basis. Now, look at this. It would be so helpful if you could point out the differences between these bite marks and those left by the purgatory worms you mentioned earlier, so that we can rule out a supernatural cause of death.'

'I'm so not talking about those Khan Worms ever again…'

'Why are they called Khan Worms?'

'Because that's what I called them. I told you, we were the first ones to see them, so I named them.' Dean blinked. 'Probably ought to have taken out a patent for that, too.'

Sherlock pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'And in what way were they resembling Mongolian military rulers from the 7th century?'

Dean fixed him with a confused stare. 'Dude, what the hell are you talking about? I thought I'd left my geek boy safely at home somewhere.'

'You said Khan Worms, so I was assuming –'

Dean's mouth fell wide open in disbelief. 'You're not serious! – Man, not again! Star Trek, ring a bell?' Sherlock looked at him with a baffled expression. Dean ran his hands through his hair and sighed exaggeratedly. 'My ass, you're even worse than Cas. We'll have to have another movie night soon.'

Sherlock huffed. 'I really can't comprehend how you expect me to pick up on all the random and irrelevant references that you like to make to these tediously illogical films when you spend most of the time distracting me with your tongue and your fingers whenever we're watching one of them.'

'Are you complaining?' Dean asked, wriggling his eyebrows mischievously.

'No.' Sherlock smiled. 'Now,' he carried on excitedly, pointing at the photograph before him, 'the pattern on her throat –'

'Ah!' Dean sighed, rubbing an exhausted hand across his eyes and forehead. 'Can we please rewind to the part of the conversation where we were talking about me distracting you with my tongue and fingers?'

'Focus, Dean. Even making allowances for the general incompetency of your brain, it is unbelievable that you haven't been killed yet on a run-of-the-mill job if your mind constantly strays to baser matters. – A man's alibi might depend on it,' he added with a hopeful smile.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and snorted angrily. 'You're mistaking me with John, dude. These high moral appeals do nothing for me. I'm a man for the baser matters, remember?'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'For Christ's Sake,' he exclaimed in tones as if he were being grievously wronged, 'why do you always have to be such a stroppy child?'

'That's what you think of me?' Dean asked in a considerably brighter tone, stepped up behind Sherlock and placed a playful kiss on the tender white skin above his collarbone, where Sherlock's wine-red dressing gown had slipped just enough to give him access.

'Oh my God, not again,' Sherlock groaned, twisting his head slightly to look at Dean. 'It really does something for you, doesn't it?'

'Mm,' Dean murmured appreciatively against his shoulder.

'Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is at your age and level of life experience to get off on me saying the word _stroppy_?' His voice came out slightly breathless, taking nearly all the bite out of his complaint. He made up for it by frowning belligerently.

A wicked grin spread over Dean's face. 'Now who's the stroppy child?' he asked and bit down lightly on the patch of skin he'd previously covered with his lips. 'Watch your face or it'll freeze like that. You look enough like an alien as it is, so I wouldn't take any chances.'

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Thank you for reading.


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